Choices
by Titan5
Summary: A tag to Miller's Crossing in which John has trouble dealing with his part in Wallace's death. Spoilers, obviously.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **They aren't mine and I have no rights to them.

**Summary: **A tag to Miller's Crossing (so obviously there are spoilers) in which guilt eats away at John as he struggles to come to terms with his role in Wallace's death.

**Choices - Chapter 1**

John struggled against the sheet currently tangled around his legs, slowing his frantic rush for the bathroom. He barely made it to the Ancient version of a toilet before the meager supper he'd eaten made a spectacular come back, followed by several seconds of dry heaving. When he'd finally finished and slumped sideways against the wall for support, he caught himself rubbing his chest, trying to make the phantom pains of being fed on by a Wraith go away. When he closed his eyes, he could see Wallace's withering form as if it had happened only moments before instead of a week ago.

"No, I'm not doing this," he said out loud, pushing himself to his feet and flushing the reminder of his recent inability to hold down food. That had been a continuing theme the past few days. Every time he even thought about food, it brought images of the feeding Wraith to his mind, along with very vivid memories of his own experience as Wraith food. It was all he could do to choke down a few bites at mealtime before having to bolt from the mess hall in order to keep it down. And sometimes it didn't stay in his stomach for long, no matter what he did. He knew he'd lost weight, even without stepping on any scales and it was only a matter of time before someone else noticed. At some point, he had to figure out how to take back control.

John washed his hands and face before returning to his bedside. Looking down at the tangled mass of bedcovers, he quickly decided he didn't want to go that route again. He'd just get an early start on his morning run. Changing into his light athletic pants and a t-shirt, he set off across the city to some of the uninhabited parts for his workout.

Since returning from Earth, he spent most of his day wearing a mask that mimicked the John Sheppard that left Atlantis to help his friend get his sister back. He purposely busied himself doing anything and everything that would keep his mind off the blood on his hands. He'd done dark things before, but somehow this seemed worse. When he was alone, his mind began to add up the things he'd done the last few years, the things he'd become capable of, and it was starting to scare him. He was growing darker, more ruthless. Some days he wondered if he was on a path to becoming Kolya . . . or maybe something worse.

It had been easy to reason with himself that what he was doing was for the good of Earth and mankind. Orchestrating Wallace's self-sacrifice had saved one of the most brilliant scientists in the world, a man who had saved said Earth on many occasions, not to mention Atlantis. Besides, Wallace had been willing to sacrifice an innocent to get what he wanted, so wasn't it fair that he should be willing to give his life in exchange for that innocent? It had made sense to John at the time. And John's fear for Rodney had made it easy to ignore the little voice in his head that kept raising questions.

The line wasn't so clear any more. How was he better than Wallace? He'd done what the grieving father had tried to do, sacrifice someone else in order to save his loved one. On some level, John knew that made him a killer just as surely as it had almost made Wallace one. They had both just used other means to kill their victim. John stopped and leaned over, resting his hands on his thighs as he sucked in air. All this thinking was giving him a headache, along with the lack of sleep. After a few minutes, he stood and veered onto the outside walkway, concentrating on the rhythmic sounds of his footsteps and the burn in his muscles and lungs so he would stop thinking about his most recent choice to take a life.

oOo

After a shower and a change of clothes, John made his way to the mess hall. He had no appetite, but his stomach was growling in disagreement and he knew he needed to somehow get back on food again. Man cannot live without food . . . just like Wraith cannot live without food. Wincing at the sudden image, he shook his aching head and walked into the large room, breathing through his mouth so the food smells wouldn't have him bolting for the bathroom.

Selecting two pieces of toast and a cup of coffee, John sat down at a table in the far corner, hoping he could struggle with his breakfast privately. He managed two bites before Teyla and Ronon joined him. The sight of Ronon's heavily laden tray almost sent him outside to the balcony, but he quickly averted his eyes while swallowing several times.

"Did you leave any for the rest of the city?" John asked, moving his gaze up to the former runner.

Ronon grinned and stuck his fork into the mound of eggs. "He who eats last, eats least. That was our unit motto and it fits here as well.

"You mean if anything's left," John muttered as he picked at his toast.

"Missed you this morning," Ronon said between bites.

John rubbed the back of his neck a second before letting his hand drop. "I got an early start."

Ronon stopped chewing a moment to look at him. "That's three times in the past week." John shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.

"Is that all you are eating?" asked Teyla, staring down at his nearly empty tray.

"Not very hungry today," John replied, realizing his team was beginning to see the problems he was having. Well, everyone but Rodney, who seemed to be avoiding him. Or maybe he was avoiding Rodney. More likely they were avoiding each other.

"You have not been eating or sleeping well since you returned from Earth. Is something wrong? Perhaps we could help you," offered Teyla.

John rolled his lip down to chew on it, trying not to notice the way Ronon was staring at him. He'd purposely kept both Ronon and Rodney out of the loop, not wanting either of them to be subject to any fallout that resulted from his actions, but Rodney had confronted him until he finally caved. He suspected Ronon knew something other that what was in the report had taken place.

"Nothing's wrong," he lied. "I just . . . uh . . . maybe I have gate lag or something."

"Gate lag?" asked Teyla.

John shook his head. "Sorry, uh, just means my rhythms are all off from traveling between time zones, or in this case, galaxies. I'm fine, just need to get settled back into a routine." Anxious to avoid further inquiries, he stood up and grabbed his tray. "I've got a department head meeting with Carter in a while, so I'll see you guys later."

Dumping his tray, he quickly left the mess hall and headed for the conference room. He really did have a meeting, but it didn't start for another half hour. He'd just be early for once. As it turned out, Lorne caught him in the hall with some questions about the team rotations and by the time they finished, he just barely made the meeting on time.

The meeting lasted nearly two hours and John spent most of it trying to stay awake. He sourly noted that Rodney sat at the other end of the table. Definitely avoiding him. John couldn't really blame him. Rodney wasn't cut out to hang around with killers, which was what John had begun to feel like. As Dr. Mathers droned on about soil samples from the mainland, John let his head drop forward and rubbed his eyes, willing the expanding headache to leave him alone. For a moment, a distant buzzing filled his ears and his mind wandered in sea of haze.

"Colonel?"

The sharpness of Carter's voice brought John back to the conference room in a jolt and he jerked his head up to find everyone staring at him. Carter wore a new expression that he couldn't decipher as worry or anger. "Uh, what? Sorry, I guess I kind of zoned out a second," he said sheepishly.

Carter's expression softened just a little and he definitely saw worry there. Holy crap. "Dr. Mathers wanted to know if someone could take his team back to the mainland later this week for more samples?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Just email me the specifics in a formal request and I'll get it set up." John shifted uncomfortably, feeling like everyone there was studying him, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. Everyone but Rodney, who had nailed him with one of his patent _you're an idiot _expressions.

"Is there anything else?" asked Carter, glancing at each person around the table. When no one responded, she gave a quick nod. "We're done then, until next month."

Tipping his head forward, John rubbed circles on his forehead, waiting until the room cleared so maybe he wouldn't have to talk to anyone. As the shuffling of feet and chairs died down, he looked up to see if the coast was clear to find Carter taking the seat next to him. He wasn't surprised, but he was disappointed that he hadn't gotten off without some kind of lecture.

"Look, I'm sorry about the whole letting my mind wander thing. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again." He figured a preemptive strike was worth a shot.

Carter studied him, a little too closely for his liking. "John, are you all right? You've been kind of quiet and elusive since you got back and, no offense, but you look like you haven't slept for a week."

Making himself meet her eyes, he held her gaze for several seconds before dropping his head again. "I . . . I'm okay, just haven't been sleeping too well lately. It'll pass."

Drawing in a deep breath, Carter held it a second before blowing it out. "You feel guilty about what happened to Wallace."

John almost laughed, but it wasn't because he found the situation humorous. He was just so freaked out, that possibly he was in the process of losing it completely. Guilty did so little justice to what he was feeling. A nod was all he could manage.

"There's more to this than what's in the report, isn't there?"

John remained silent, but looked up at her again. She knew the report was full of holes and he was debating the wisdom of continuing the lie. He just couldn't bring himself to tell her what had happened, what he'd done. There was a reason he had told Rodney he didn't want to talk about it. He wasn't entirely sure he could.

"John, I'm not a stranger to weird situations with no right answer. I've done some things I'm not exactly anxious to share with others, some things that I still wonder if they were right or wrong. And maybe the answer is both. I'm not going to press you for details on this because I know you did what you had to do to protect your people. Just . . . don't dwell on it too much. What's done is done and all of our people are alive. You can't let this stuff eat you up."

The lump in his throat and the heaviness in the pit of his stomach wouldn't let him answer her, so he just gave a faint nod. He knew she was right and that she probably understood as well as anyone what he was dealing with.

Smiling at him, Carter snorted lightly. "I know, easier said than done. But work on it for me, or I'll have to take you off the duty roster and stick you in the infirmary. Neither of us wants that."

Returning her smile, John bobbed his head once. "Okay, I'll work on it."

Carter stood and pushed her chair up under the table before turning back to him. "I know you don't know me very well yet, but I hope that changes. My door is always open if you need to talk to someone. Especially if you need to bounce some things off someone you aren't quite so close to."

John stood and pushed his chair in as well. "Thanks. I may take you up on that sometime."

With a nod, Carter left the room. John followed soon after, heading for the room where the newest batch of marines should be training with Lorne and Ronon by now. There he would be able to lose himself in focused activity for a while.

oOo

It was almost 1800 by the time he ran out of things to do and returned to his room. He had briefly entertained the idea of eating in the mess hall, but his stomach had protested the minute he was within smelling distance. He'd fought back a gag and made a one-eighty, heading for his quarters instead. After pacing the small room several times, the room began to feel like it was closing in on him and he'd opted for a nice, long run.

The first half hour it was easy to concentrate on his pounding feet and controlled breathing. The lack of sleep and food was beginning to catch up to him, however, and he found himself tiring much sooner than usual. An hour into his run, he diverted to a pier, slowing to a jog and then a walk as he approached the edge and looked out over the water. Breathing hard, he watched the sun slowly sinking down to the horizon, with reds and purples streaking out around the handful of clouds moving across the sky.

John sat down, stretching his legs out on the hard surface, watching the close of the day. He wished he could close this chapter of his life as easily and wake up tomorrow to start afresh, without the lingering guilt. It was weird the way he could convince himself for a while that he was justified in what he did, but then the memories of Wallace's death would burn fresh in his mind. Maybe it wouldn't be so vivid if he hadn't made himself watch every minute, but he figured he owed the man at least that much. He should have to watch the death that he had so carefully arranged. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much if he hadn't been fed on himself, almost to the point of death, and ironically by this same Wraith. It was all too close to home, too familiar.

Sighing, John lay back and draped his arm across his eyes, trying to think about anything besides the trip to Earth. He tried remembering the thrill of coming to Atlantis, unsure of what the journey would bring and yet excited to be a part of it. He remembered that first caress of the city, which he didn't recognize for what it was. The first few weeks of wondering what was wrong with him and why he felt a growing presence in his mind that eventually manifested itself with physical sensations. The memories had him unconsciously reaching out to her now, and felt his connection to her deepen, almost like she was trying to comfort him.

_John drifted for a while, eventually finding himself wandering the halls of Atlantis. Only they were empty. He called out, but no one answered. Time seemed to jump around and he found himself outside the cell of the Wraith. His stomach clenched and he fought the rising bile. He wanted to turn and leave, but his feet wouldn't cooperate. Taking in a deep breath, he finally made himself enter the room and face his former tormenter inside the cell._

"_Why have you come Sheppard?" asked the Wraith._

_John just stood there for a moment. "I don't know."_

_The Wraith looked at him a moment before laughing. "Yes you do. But you must ask before I will answer."_

_Searching his mind, John could think of nothing to ask. He stood staring at the creature, his muddled brain trying to figure out what was happening and why no one was guarding the prisoner. Water splashed on him, and he brushed it off his face, looking up for the source. Then there was a lot of water, drenching him and making him shiver and he couldn't figure out where it was coming from. _

John opened his eyes to find himself lying on his side in a huddle, soaked to the skin as the rain continued to fall. _What the. . . _It was dark, the lights from the city barely illuminating the pier on which he rested. John sat up, making him groan as his stiff and sore muscles protested the sudden action. Pulling himself to his feet, he staggered a few steps before getting his legs fully under control. Seconds later, he entered the city and squinted at his watch. Two hours. He'd apparently slept two hours during which the sun had gone down and it had clouded up to start raining. Glancing down at the way he was dripping a pool in the hallway, he wondered how bad it was that he'd slept through the pouring rain until he was completely soaked.

Wiping the water from his face, he headed back to the active part of the city and his quarters. His first priority was to get warm and dry. He was still shivering and it was extremely uncomfortable walking in his wet clothes. Ten minutes into his walk, his stomach growled loudly and it felt like a big, empty pit. Looked like food was next on the list after warm and dry. He'd just have to keep himself distracted long enough to eat something before his stomach tried to eat itself.

An hour after waking up on the pier, John had taken a long, hot shower and put on dry clothes. He wasn't warm, but he was warmer. The cavernous pit of his stomach was talking loudly to him as he quickly made his way to the mess, trying diligently to keep his mind focused on food and not feeding Wraith.

The mess hall was almost empty, just as he'd expected and hoped. The food had already been put away for the night, with the exception of some fruit and desserts that didn't need refrigerating. Martha Griggs, a large woman with short, dark hair, smiled at him and hurried over to where he was eyeing the fruit.

"We haven't seen you around much lately, Colonel. Can I get you something?"

John flashed her his boyish, lop-sided grin. Martha was always friendly and tended her soldiers and scientists with motherly affection. Everyone on base had a soft spot for her. "Nah, I'm good. I got distracted with something I was doing, so I'm running late tonight. I'll just grab some fruit." His stomach chose that moment to gurgle loudly, almost as if protesting his statement.

Martha's eyes widened. "You most certainly will not," she said sharply. "I hear your poor empty stomach begging for something to eat. You just wait right here."

Not only did John not want to risk hurting the woman's feelings, he was genuinely hungry for the first time in a long time. He wanted something to eat. He was looking at the desserts a few minutes later when Martha returned with a heaping plate of roast beef with potatoes and carrots and a couple of rolls. When the scent hit him, his stomach almost leaped for joy as opposed to the usual rolling and churning.

"Wow, Martha, that smells heavenly. I can't believe you had any left. Thank you," he said as he took the plate.

Martha blushed a bit as she smiled back at him. "Well, I noticed you didn't come in for supper and . . . you're looking a bit thin these days, so I saved you a plate in case you showed up later. I hope you don't mind. I . . . we worry about you a little."

John was surprised to hear some of the cooks noticed him that much, not to mention cared enough to save him food. "Uh, thanks. I think that's nice."

"Oh, wait a second," she said as she hurried back to the refrigerator. Returning a few moments later, she breathlessly handed him a bowl of banana pudding. "We made banana pudding today and Carol knew you liked it, so we kept one back for you."

"Okay, now you guys are just spoiling me," he chuckled, his mouth watering as he took the pudding.

"You deserve it," she said seriously. "We . . . well, those of us in places like the mess hall, we don't have to face the dangers you and some of the others face all the time. We just like to show how much we appreciate the way you protect us. And we know . . . well, you know how people talk and how word gets around. We know you've put yourself in harms way on many occasions to protect those of us who live here and we just like to do a little something every now and again to say thank you. So eat up and enjoy, and let me know if you need anything else."

John was touched that they had gone out of their way to make sure he had a good meal. It was weird how simple things seemed so important sometimes. Looking up at the smiling woman, he nodded and gave her a big smile, finding his throat completely frozen. Slightly embarrassed, he quickly made his way over to his standard table in the back corner and sat down.

The first few bites were heavenly and he ate slowly, savoring every mouthful. About halfway through the plate of food, his stomach began to feel full, so he took a break while he figured out if he was really done or not. Looking around the mess hall, he noticed Rodney come in and head for the remaining desserts, complaining to himself as he studied the selection. Finally picking up a piece of apple pie, he poured himself some coffee and looked around the room. John knew when he spotted him from his expression and was a little startled when Rodney seemed to be deciding whether to come over or not.

Disappointed, John pushed the plate aside and dipped his spoon into the pudding, purposefully not looking at the scientist. He wasn't sure if he was surprised or not when Rodney plopped down in the chair across from him.

"You're eating late."

John shrugged one shoulder. "Been busy."

"Yeah, me too," said Rodney as he poked his pie. "Is that banana pudding?"

"Yup," John drawled as he scooped up a bite.

"Oh," Rodney muttered. "They ran out at supper. The goon in front of me grabbed two puddings and he got the last one. People shouldn't be allowed to get two until everyone's had one helping."

"You mean like you always get two bowls when they have the hot fudge cake for dessert?"

"I do not! Okay, maybe sometimes, but it's only when my blood sugar is low and I need to get it up quickly," Rodney argued.

"Right," John said noncommittally.

Rodney sat looking at him for several moments, making John uncomfortable. "You okay? You look tired."

John glanced up at his friend, noting for the first time the dark circles under his blood shot eyes. "Probably not any more tired than you."

Rodney lowered his gaze as he began prodding his pie with his fork. "Yes, well, like I said, busy."

"Busy," John echoed, staring down into his pudding. He suddenly realized the color was familiar. Just before Wallace had died, when he was withered and old, his skin had been an almost translucent yellowish color, very similar to the pudding in the bowl. John's stomach suddenly clenched, pushing burning bile up his throat. Snapping his teeth together and swallowing the vile substance back down, John dropped his spoon, splattering the dessert on his hand and the table. Another round of stomach contents tried pushing up his esophagus and his eyes watered with the effort of not expelling it. Jumping up, he quickly headed for the door, barely registering Rodney's protests from behind him.

By the time he reached the nearest balcony, he had his hand over his mouth, barely keeping his stomach contents in place until he reached the railing. He was thankful it was too dark to see the reappearance of the first decent meal he'd eaten in a week, as well as for the way the balcony jutted out over the water. Dry heaving until he was exhausted, he staggered over to sit against the wall when the spasms finally stopped.

Although it had stopped raining, the air was still cold and damp, so it didn't take long for John to start shivering. That was the prompting he needed to make himself get up and head back to his quarters. Once there, he stood looking at his door, knowing he couldn't go to sleep yet. Memories were stirring again, and he wasn't ready to face his nightmares. So for the third time in a week, John made rounds of the city in the middle of the night. He checked all the places guards were posted, making sure everyone was alert and doing their job. No one even acted surprised to see their CO wandering the corridors half the night any more and John wondered if that was a bad thing.

At 0300, John was finally exhausted enough that he couldn't put one foot in front of the other any more, so he returned to his room. After a hot shower to soothe his aching muscles, he stumbled to his bed, falling asleep almost before he got the blankets pulled up around him.

oOo

A strange buzzing and chirping kept trying to pull him from a warm, soft embrace. He resisted, but the noise got louder and the softness slipped away to leave him annoyed.

"What?" he asked sharply, lifting his head a few inches. The chirping continued and John blinked a few times, clearing the sleep from his eyes and enough of the fog from his brain to realize he was in bed and someone was trying to contact him on his radio. "Ah, shoot," he muttered as he snagged the device.

"Sheppard here," he snapped as he gazed at the bedside clock. 5:17 the red numbers told him. Great, all of two hours sleep. Colonel Carter's voice filled his head.

"_Colonel Sheppard, I'm sorry about the hour, but I need you to report to the control room. We've received a message from the Umarians and they need our help."_

"On my way," he replied, already half out of bed and grabbing for his clothes. They had managed to reestablish contact with several of their closest allies after their forced move to another planet. Although the Umarians were not technologically advanced, they had helped with food supplies several times when Atlantis reserves had run low. Carson had traded Earth antibiotics and pain relievers for several treatments for Pegasus variety illnesses that had proved very beneficial. Tama and his people had proven trustworthy and loyal, passing along any information they gleamed during trading that they thought the Lanteans could use.

John arrived at the control room to find Carter talking to Tadako, Tama's daughter. The girl was in her early twenties with dark hair cascading down to her lower back. She smiled at him and gave a small bow, which John returned. "Colonel John, you will help our Akira, yes?"

John gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm sure we can help, Tadako. Tell me what happened."

"You remember Akira, the son of my father's friend, Matsu. He went hunting with two other boys his age, but they became separated several hours ago. The others returned when they could not locate Akira. We would not worry so, but a storm approaches and it will be very cold before morning. My father fears Akira is not skilled or experienced enough with life in the wild to survive."

John nodded. "We'll help find him," he stated confidently. "Give me a minute to round up my team and some supplies and then we can give you a ride home."

Tadako's eyes widened. "You will let me ride the junker?"

Carter stifled a laugh, quickly bringing her hand up to her mouth. John sighed and put one hand on the girl's shoulder, looking into her wide, dark brown eyes. "Please, don't ever call my ship a junker again. It's a jumper," he said, emphasizing the _p_.

Tadako snickered. "I am sorry Colonel John. Do I get to ride on the jumper?"

Smiling, John nodded. "Yes, you do. Tell Colonel Carter about the shika your people hunt while I get my team and get the jumper loaded."

John was wide awake and pumped as he contacted his team and got the marine on duty in the jumper bay to help him load a few extra supplies. He remembered Akira, a boy of around twelve with a round face and dark hair and eyes like those of most of his people. He'd been very taken with John, following him around and asking questions any time they visited the planet. The chance to do something positive, to save a life instead of sacrificing one, on top of the pilot's fondness for the missing boy had him hopped up, all thoughts of exhaustion left behind.

Twenty-five minutes later, the jumper had been loaded and the team had arrived. John ushered Tadako onto the ship and Teyla sat down beside her on one of the back benches. Lt. Swindle, a field medic, was accompanying them in case Akira was in need of medical attention when they found him.

"Ready to go for a ride?" asked John.

"Yes, Colonel John, I am very excited! We are safe, right?" asked the young girl, suddenly looking a bit unsure.

"We're safe, as long as Rodney doesn't drive," quipped John.

"Hey, I drive just fine," argued Rodney as he passed them on his way to the co-pilot's seat.

John exchanged a grin with Teyla and Ronon as he made his way to the front and began getting the jumper ready for flight. A few minutes later, they were emerging on the other side of the gate. From there, it only took a short time to reach the village and they landed just outside the rough wooden structures of the settlement.

It was late afternoon on the planet and John was still struggling with the shift in time zones as they emerged from the back of the jumper. Tama met them, along with several people from the village, and led them to the building that served as a sort of town hall. There they explained where Akira had become separated from the two boys he was with. Search parties had been sent out immediately, but they had also chosen to contact Atlantis for help since night was near and a winter storm was closing in. John was a little surprised to hear about the storm since it was only slightly cool outside, definitely not what he'd call winter weather. Rodney voiced his uncertainties.

"It's not even that cold outside. Spend a winter in Canada and then we'll talk cold, but this isn't it," the scientist stated defiantly.

"I understand that it is not so cold outside now, but the wind comes and with it, the warmth of the air will be taken away. I fear we have but a short time to find Akira. He is still young and not experienced enough to deal with such changes in the weather. And then there is the possibility that he is injured."

"Don't worry, Tama, we'll find him," assured John. And he was determined that they would do just that. John turned to his team. "We'll take the jumper to the area where Akira was lost and find the closest place to set down so we can join the search."

"Uh, how cold is it going to get? It's going to be dark soon, and then it'll just get colder and even harder to see and my night vision isn't all that good," stammered Rodney.

"Rodney, I want you to do an aerial survey of the area and take Lt. Swindle with you. You may be able to spot something from the air that we can't see from the ground. You'll also be able to get the Lt. here to Akira as soon as he's found," instructed John.

Rodney seemed surprised for a second, but quickly recovered. "Yes, I can do that. That's good. There's several clearings around there and if he's near one, this may not take long at all."

"Yeah, not long at all if we're lucky," John said. He was thinking how often they were lucky with things like this. It promised to be a long, cold night.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Choices - Chapter 2**

The sound of his feet crunching in the woodland litter on the forest floor seemed to echo in John's skull, further swelling the pounding in his head. He'd pushed the headache back when the call for help had been received, but it had returned with a vengeance, along with the exhaustion. The wind whipped around him, stirring his hair and numbing his face and hands with its icy touch.

"Akira!" John called, the wind blowing his words back in his face so that the boy wouldn't hear them unless he was very close. Shining his light around in an arc, he slowly began moving forward again. He was alone, having separated from Ronon over an hour ago when the trail they were following split. There were no clear signs the boy had taken either trail, so they had decided to each follow one. John was wondering if either one of them was on the right track, or if the boy had set off making his own trail. It was late and he was tired and cold. The past week of little sleep and even less to eat was picking a really bad time to hit him.

"Help!"

It was so faint, John wasn't sure at first he had heard it. He strained, turning his ear toward the direction he thought the call had come from.

"Help!" Louder this time, carried on the wind and more frantic sounding. John took off at a run, dodging trees and jumping over clumps of forest debris. Hearing the sound of running water, he eventually came upon a fast flowing stream. The area around the water was clear and moonlight streamed in, partially illuminating the surface. He jogged alongside the waterway until he saw Akira just ahead. He was in the water, hanging onto some boulders along the side of the stream. Racing over to the top of the huge rocks, John tried to lean over and grab the boy's arm.

"Hang on Akira, it's John Sheppard. I'm going to get you out of there, but you have to trust me, okay buddy?"

He could see the mixture of terror and relief on the boy's face as he looked up. The youngster's teeth were chattering and his hand looked like it was slipping from its hold. John lay across the stone and hung his arm over the side. Akira reached for it, water splashing up all around him. John stretched as far as he could without going over the side, but he was still a few inches short of grabbing Akira's hand.

"Okay, I'm going to try something else. Just hang on for me a few more minutes, okay?"

Akira gave a slight nod, his body trembling violently. John scrambled to his feet and off the boulder, moving down stream as he looked for a place to enter the water. A few yards away, he found the perfect place. Unclipping his P90, he set both weapons on the ground and waded into the icy stream. The temperature was too cold to have dropped that far due to the change in weather. The stream must either be spring fed or come down from much higher elevations he thought, because it took his breath away as he entered it. Water lapped around his waist as he made his way upstream toward Akira, holding onto the rocks as he went. A few minutes later, he reached the grateful boy.

"Colonel John, y-y-y-you c-c-c-c-came for m-m-m-me," the boy said through chattering teeth.

"Of course, we always come after our people," John said as he came around behind the boy to make sure he didn't drift off in the current. "This water is kinda cold, so what do you say we get out? Are you hurt?"

"N-n-no."

"Good." John thought briefly about boosting the boy up the rocks before them, but quickly decided they were too high. His experience trying to reach down to the boy had pretty much established that. "Okay, we're going to have to move downstream a bit where the rocks aren't so tall so I can boost you out. You ready?"

The shivering boy nodded, his back pressed into John's chest as he apparently sought warmth or safety or both. John made sure his arms surrounded the boy before gripping the rocks so that there was no way Akira could be carried away by the rushing water. His body was almost numb from the waist down and he was beginning to shiver himself, so he could only imagine how cold Akira was. As they began moving slowly downstream, he talked to the boy to keep him alert.

"It's kind of cold to be taking a midnight swim, isn't it?"

The boy tried to laugh, but it came out more of a strangled cry. "F-f-f-fell in."

"You've got lots of people out looking for you, you know."

"I am r-r-r-really one of y-your people?"

"You bet. Let's get you out of this water before you freeze." Reaching the spot where John had entered the water, he boosted Akira up until he was able to pull himself out of the water and onto the bank. John followed, his numb body making his efforts clumsy and slow.

"Hey, kid, you okay?" he asked, noting the way Akira was shaking.

"C-c-c-cold."

Knowing he needed to get the kid out of his wet clothes as soon as possible, he reached up for his radio so he could call for the jumper. He was surprised and yet not surprised to find the radio gone. In some ways, he figured he should have expected it. Pushing himself up to his elbows, he searched the area around him. When that didn't produce the much needed communication device, he got to his feet. Still no radio. Silently cursing, he studied the shivering boy beside him and made a decision.

"Akira, we need to find some shelter and get you out of those wet clothes. You haven't seen anything around here have you?"

"S-s-s-saw a little c-c-cave," replied the boy, already beginning to push himself to his feet. John had to admire the kid's spunk. "I'll s-s-show you."

Setting off upstream, John followed the boy as he quickly veered away from the stream and into the woods. Less than five minutes later, they arrived at the small cave. John would have called it more of an outcropping than a cave, but it was better than nothing. It was little more than a seven foot long notch in a sheer rock cliff, barely four feet tall and six feet deep, but it blocked the icy wind that was threatening to take John's breath away.

"This will work," he told Akira. "Get all the way against the back wall and take off those wet clothes," he said as he dug in his vest pocket for the emergency blanket. Pulling the gear from its pocket, John looked up to find the boy staring at him.

"You want me to take off my clothes?"

Sighing, John nodded. "Yes, but you can cover up with this. I'll get some wood and start a fire. Uh, Akira . . . do your people wear . . . uh, undergarments?"

Akira cocked his head a bit to one side. "Under . . . garments?"

Reaching just inside his waistband, John pulled up a bit of the edge of his boxers. "Undergarments. Something you wear under your main clothes."

Akira smiled and nodded vigorously. "Ahhh, yes, marsenta. I have them."

Grinning, John gave a short nod. "Good, well, you can keep those on if you want, but take off the rest and curl up under this blanket. I know it isn't much, but it's better than wet clothes. I'll get a fire started and then lay your clothes out to dry."

Akira took the covering. "Thank you C-c-colonel John."

John easily found several pieces of dry wood, but every time he got the fire started, the wind curled around into the cave just enough to blow it out. John finally took up a position between the opening and the fire to block the annoying air currents. Several minutes later, the fire was burning brightly and beginning to warm the little shelter. With Akira's clothes laid out to one side to dry, John glanced back at the figure huddled under the blanket.

"Feeling better yet?"

"Yes, Colonel, I am not quite so c-c-cold. Do you think they will find us?" he asked.

"They'll find us. I figure it may be tomorrow, though, so why don't you try to get some sleep."

Frowning, Akira sat up a few inches. "Are you not cold? You're clothes are wet as well and you do not have a blanket. You also sit at the door with the wind at your back."

John grinned at the boy, touched that he would be worried about him. "I'll be fine. I'm used to doing stuff like this. How did you get separated from the other boys?"

Sighing, Akira blushed slightly. "We had a disagreement on which way the trail of the shika led, so we split up."

Smiling as he poked the fire with a long, thin stick, John let his eyes stray up to the boy. "So, were you right?"

"Yes, I was right, but I lost him in the thick part of the woods. He was too fast for me. And by the time I had given up my quest, I had lost my way. It was very foolish."

"Yeah, sometimes being right isn't enough. I'm pretty sure your dad will be lecturing you about this."

The boy groaned and pulled the blanket more tightly around his shoulders. "He will do more than lecture. It will mean extra chores until I am old enough to leave the family dwelling."

John couldn't help the chuckle that emerged. "I guess some things are the same no matter what galaxy you live in."

Akira's eyes brightened. "When you were my age, did you get in such trouble?"

"That is probably an understatement." Although his headache and exhaustion were increasing at about the same rate he felt his body temperature was dropping, the conversation with Akira was providing a much needed distraction.

"Would you tell me about it?" asked the boy, his eyes wide and gleaming with excitement.

John chuckled again. "Only if you promise not to breathe a word of any of this to anyone from Atlantis, especially Dr. McKay. I'd have to hear about it for years to come."

Akira nodded vigorously. "I will not tell anyone else."

"All right. And then you have to close your eyes and get some rest." At the boy's nod, he continued, telling Akira about the troubles Earth boys could get themselves into.

oOo

John jerked, realizing simultaneously that he was extremely cold, that he'd fallen asleep, and that something had touched him. Adrenalin surged through him, giving him the energy to force his stiff, aching body to a sitting position while cranking his eyes open.

"Easy, Sheppard, it's just us," said a deep voice which John immediately recognized as Ronon, even though the figure in front of him remained blurry. He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times while his heart settled back in his chest.

"You know better than that," John snapped, but his voice was so low and rough, that it didn't come out sounding very authoritative. It took him a moment to remember where he was, but once he'd caught up, he looked over his shoulder toward Akira. The boy was awake and answering questions being posed by Lt. Swindle as the medic checked his blood pressure. "You okay, kid?"

Akira nodded with a big grin. "Yes, I am good. You were right, they found us."

John returned the smile, trying to hide the fact that he felt like crap. "They always do." Rubbing his face until he felt more awake, John began shifting to get his feet underneath him and stand.

"Colonel, why don't you just stay put and I'll be with you in a minute," the medic said, casting a glance over his shoulder.

Waving his hand flippantly, John shook his head. "I'm fine, just cold and stiff," he said before breaking into a coughing fit. When it was over, it took several tries to clear his throat. Well, that just sucked.

"Well, you don't look fine." Rodney walked up and stomped snow off his boots before squatting beside the pilot's legs, shifting his gaze to John's BDU pants. Reaching his hand out, he poked a wrinkle with his index finger. "My God, Sheppard, are your pants frozen?"

Looking down, John noticed what looked like a sliver of ice along the seam of a pocket. He prodded it, causing it to shatter and fall apart immediately. "Wow, I think maybe they are," he admitted. He continued to stare at the odd standing wrinkles in the fabric, amazed by the strange patterns they formed. When he looked up at his teammates, he noticed they were staring at him. Even though his brain felt like it was moving in slow motion, he knew the look of worry when he saw it.

"This is ridiculous," he complained, once again focusing on getting his legs underneath him so he could stand. He managed to get upright, but almost immediately the cave tilted sideways and then began to spin. John felt more than saw the strong arms supporting him and knew instantly that Ronon had caught him as his legs gave way beneath him. He wanted to thank his teammate, but the sights and sounds around him faded away too quickly.

oOo

He drifted in and out to an assortment of random touches and pricks, to being shifted and moved, to sounds of voices and beeping and hissing. He began to surface once and was aware of a soft hand in his. Trying to pry his eyes open, he found his lids almost glued together. He wanted to raise his free hand up to rub his eyelids until they would open, but found that took entirely too much energy. Exhausted from the tiny effort, he faded back into darkness.

More sounds and touches drifted in and out, becoming slightly clearer each time until he was once again aware of the hand in his. This time a second hand gently rubbed his forearm, helping him focus on the touch until he was more awake. Soft voices slowly began to make sense and he recognized that they belonged to Teyla and Carter.

"Hey," he said, or at least tried to say. It came out more of a gravelly moan.

The voices stopped for a moment of lingering silence before the hand in his squeezed tightly. "John?"

This time he won the battle to get his eyes open and found Teyla smiling at him as she sat in a chair beside the bed. He wanted to answer her, but the tickle building in his throat had other ideas and soon he was coughing and wheezing, and having trouble drawing in enough oxygen. He felt the bed come up a bit, making it slightly easier to catch his breath. After a few minutes, his throat no longer felt like it was a scratch pad and he could suck in air much easier. Opening his eyes again, he found Keller had taken Teyla's place and was getting out her stethoscope. Teyla and Carter stood at the foot of the bed, looking concerned.

"Just relax, Colonel," said the doctor has she moved the cool instrument around John's chest and then had him lean forward so she could listen at John's back. Finished, she let the pilot lay back and adjusted the nasal cannula that John hadn't even been aware of. Now that he was beginning to take note, he observed the IV in his left hand and monitor wires running from his chest and the clip on his finger. Another tube made itself known as well and he groaned at the thought.

"How long have I been here?" he asked.

"Almost two days," answered Keller, a frown making her look almost angry.

John suddenly paled. "Akira! Is he all right?"

Her expression softening a little, Keller nodded. "Yes, he's fine. He was suffering from mild hypothermia, but it was easily remedied. It was good you had the boy take off those wet clothes, but you should have done the same."

"Only one blanket doc, and I was only half wet. Akira was drenched and he was in the water longer than me. He took priority."

"Everyone else always takes priority over you." They all looked around as Rodney came to a stop beside Teyla, with Ronon moving in to stand on the other side.

"About time you woke up," rumbled the Satedan with a big grin.

"Guess I was tired."

Keller snorted, the annoyed look returning. "No, Colonel, you were exhausted. Exactly when have you slept in the past week? I'm sure that contributed to the respiratory infection you developed and have been fighting the last two days. You've also lost several pounds and I don't need to tell you that that's never a good idea for you. Teyla and Ronon tell me you haven't eaten much since returning from Earth."

John sighed loudly. Busted. He had known all along it would catch up with him if he didn't get himself straightened out, but he'd still hoped to fix things before then.

"I told them what you did," Rodney said quietly, guilt crossing his features. John felt a surge of anger, but it faded quickly. It wasn't like they all didn't know there was more to the story than had been in the report. Rubbing his face, he avoided their eyes and the accusing looks he assumed would be there.

John startled a bit at a touch, surprised when Teyla took his hand again. "You did what you had to do, John. You did not force this on Wallace, he chose to do what was right."

"Then why do I feel like I have blood on my hands?" he asked quietly, still refusing to meet their eyes.

"Because you aren't quite as hardened and calloused as you'd like to believe," said Carter. "You offered the man a way to make right what he'd so heartlessly done to Jeannie and he recognized it for what it was. I can't say that I would have done any differently. You didn't force him at gunpoint, you didn't blackmail him into it. You just showed him the pain he'd caused and how he could fix it. But you still have a conscience and a man is dead, so you're feeling guilty and wondering if what you did was right."

"I'm not sure if I could have done what you did," said Ronon, "but I'm not sorry you did it."

John managed to give the big man a small nod, but still didn't look up. "Look . . . I appreciate what you guys are saying, it's just that . . .I've already told myself this same stuff and . . ." He trailed off, unable to finish. The bottom line was he'd goaded a man into dying in order to save the life of a friend and he knew that, on some level, it just seemed selfish and wrong. He wouldn't change what he'd done, even now, and he wondered if that made the crime worse.

After a few moments of silence, Rodney stepped forward to hand John a picture. He looked down at a photo of Jeannie, Kaleb, and Madison, smiling broadly for the camera. "Jeannie sent this to you, to say thanks for all your help."

John looked up at Rodney in panic. "She knows?"

Looking horrified for a brief instant, Rodney suddenly shook his head. "No, no of course not. She just thinks we managed to figure it out in time. She has no idea. She just wanted to thank you for coming to Earth with me and for finding us. I brought it down here to remind you what you helped save."

Fingering the photo, John focused on how happy they looked, relieved almost. He fervently wished this had been the reason he had done what he had done. It had been a consideration, but not the deciding factor. Talking Wallace into being Wraith food would never have occurred to him if Rodney hadn't asked to sacrifice himself. For someone who'd spent their life pushing people away and trying not to let anyone get close, he'd sure sold his soul to the devil awfully quickly.

"I think you need to let the Colonel rest. He's still battling a fever and some remaining congestion," said Keller as she fiddled with his blanket. "I want you to try eating something in just a little while," she said to John.

Nodding, John tried not to see the image of Wallace being fed on in his head. Truth be told, he was still really tired and even now he felt his lids getting heavy. Rodney took the picture from his hand and set it on the table beside the bed. "Thanks, from both of us. I know what you did . . . I know it cost you and . . . well, thanks."

John managed a small smile in an effort to ease the guilt he saw in Rodney's face. "I'd do it again if needed." He looked around at his team, his family. "For any one of you," he added as he realized it was true. He'd once told Teyla that he would do anything for any one of them and he guessed he'd just proven that true.

"Goodbye John," said Teyla, giving his hand a squeeze. "We will come back later."

"Thanks," he replied, giving her hand a squeeze back. "Thanks for bringing us home, guys. I have to say, it's much warmer here." To emphasize his words, he pushed the covers down. He was beginning to sweat.

"It's the fever," said Keller with a small smile. "But your temperature is better than it's been since we got you back."

"You're the only person I know that can go from mild hypothermia to fevered in a matter of a few hours," said Rodney.

"Hey, I'm a man of many talents," John said dryly.

"All right, all of you out," said Keller, waving her hands at the people clustered around the bed. "He's obviously not going to rest with all of you here talking to him, so shoo. Come back after lunch."

With a chorus of goodbyes, the group finally left John alone. "Do you need anything, Colonel?" asked Keller.

"No, I'm good. I don't suppose I could –"

"No, you can't have the IV out and you can't have a shower and I'm not ready to get rid of the monitors just yet. After you eat lunch, we'll talk, but not until then. And no . . . _it _stays until after lunch as well. Get some more rest, Colonel."

She was gone before John had a chance to argue or look needy or anything. He closed his eyes and settled back against the pillows. Sometimes he really missed Carson.

oOo

It was four more days before Keller released him from the infirmary. She refused to let him go until he had been fever free for at least twelve hours and had eaten three meals in a row without throwing up. Not vomiting had proven more difficult than keeping the fever at bay. It took a concentrated effort not to see Wallace every time he ate.

His team had walked him back to his quarters, where he'd feigned being tired so they would leave. Giving them ten minutes to disperse, he'd then left his room and walked to the cell where they kept the Wraith, his Wraith. He now stood outside the cell, facing the creature that was once almost the instrument of his death.

"What do you want of me, John Sheppard?" asked a familiar voice, taking him back to the time in Kolya's cell.

"Does it ever bother you? Feeding on humans, I mean. Does it ever bother you that we have intelligence and feelings, that we leave behind other humans that care for us and miss us?" He had no idea why he was so desperate to know the answers to these questions. It didn't change anything.

The smug look that had become commonplace on the Wraith's face faltered just a bit and then he paced back and forth a few times. John waited patiently, knowing the creature was considering the answer. Finally, he paused and turned to face John, standing just inside the bars right in front of the pilot.

"There was a time when humans were just food. That is the way it has always been. They had different tastes, some defiant, some fearful, some weak. But it was always simply a means to sustain ourselves. Until you, John Sheppard. You revealed things about humans I was . . . unaware of. Things I now wish I did not know. It was easier then."

John licked his lips and stepped closer to the bars, now almost touching them. "So it does bother you now?"

"Does it bother you to kill a Wraith, now that you know more about us? Does it bother you that I came here in trust, and am now your prisoner, my hive ship destroyed?"

John bowed his head a moment before looking back up at the Wraith. "You have to understand, we trusted a Wraith once before and we were almost destroyed because of it. They sucked us in and betrayed us, even though we thought we were being careful. It's . . . it's hard to trust after that."

The Wraith snorted and nodded. "Yes, I am aware of that."

A glimmer of guilt passed through John. He reminded himself that the Wraith before him was not a friend. They had worked together because they had needed each other to survive a common threat. They had agreed that all bets were off if they met again. No, they hadn't agreed. He had made that statement. He was beginning to think the Wraith hadn't bought into that. Maybe he really did think of him as a brother. Confusion filled John until he looked into the eyes of his enemy and remembered what if felt like to be fed on. Trustworthy or not, the Wraith was here in Atlantis and it was his job to protect the city, its people, and the people of Earth. He couldn't afford blind trust in a Wraith, no matter what the circumstances.

"Look, I'm sorry about what's happened to you. I really am. But you have to understand that Atlantis and its people come first. I can't afford to make the same mistake twice. We got out of it the first time, but we might not be so lucky a second time."

"And I cannot afford to stop feeding on humans. We are both trapped by who we are. We make our choices according to that and we live with the consequences."

"Yeah," John said. "I guess we do." He stood there a few more seconds, digesting the Wraith's words before slowly turning and heading back to his room. The Wraith was right. They made decisions based on who they were. He was a protector. It wasn't just his job, it was who he was. He'd been that way his whole life. He was fond of telling Rodney, "It's my job," when protecting others got him in trouble or hurt, but in reality, he'd do it even if it wasn't his job. He couldn't help who he was.

And the Wraith couldn't help who he was or that he had to feed on humans. John paused in his doorway, unsure of what that meant. It didn't change the fact that he'd kill them whenever he got the chance. There was no way they could co-exist with something that preyed on them. And it didn't change the fact that the Wraith, his included, would continue to feed on humans, intelligent or not.

Walking into his room, he sat on the edge of the bed. And he knew if he went back in time, he'd still talk Wallace into giving himself to the Wraith. He'd still have shot Sumner. They were two pages of the same book. Events that left blood on his hands and guilt in his heart, and yet he knew it was the best thing to do, even if it wasn't necessarily the right thing to do. He'd made his choice. Now he just had to learn to live with it.

oOo

_John was rooted to the spot, unable to move as the Wraith strode toward him, stopping directly in front of him. "You belong to me, Sheppard," he said smoothly, just before slamming his hand onto the pilot's chest. Blind agony raced through his body for what seemed like forever before the Wraith stood back, an evil smirk on his face. "You are mine, brother."_

_Gasping for breath, John was amazed to be alive. The Wraith was grinning at him with his creepy mouth full of dagger-like teeth, making John shiver. A deep, aching hunger began flowing through him, a need for food like he'd never felt before. Within minutes, it was an all-consuming desperation and he searched the room for something to alleviate the gnawing inside him. His eyes found Wallace, staring at him in fear. John was filled with a craving that he was suddenly aware Wallace could satisfy. John began moving toward the man. Wallace seemed paralyzed, just staring at John as if he knew he was facing his own death. _

_When John was almost touching the man, he smelled him and the gnawing hunger intensified to the point it was almost as painful as being fed on. Before he even knew what he was going to do, he thrust his hand against Wallace's chest and watched the man's eyes roll back in his head in agony. But John didn't care because the feeling of energy flowing into him was unlike any ecstasy he'd ever known. He fed until the man was dust, crumbling at his feet. He shook with the power of it, trying to process the fact that he'd just killed a man, fed off him like a Wraith. Bringing his hand up, he turned the palm up to see the feeding slit, just like the Wraith had._

"_It is as I told you, Sheppard. You are mine."_

_John wheeled around and slammed his hand into the chest of the Wraith, who for some reason didn't seem surprised. Not only did the Wraith not seem to be in pain, but he laughed at John as the pilot fed and watched the creature wither before him. He laughed until his head fell forward in death, finally blessedly silent. John watched as the shell dropped to the floor. What had he done? What had he become? Whirling around to run, the door to the lab burst open and several soldiers burst in._

"_Kill it!" one of them yelled just before he was hit with a barrage of gunfire._

John sat straight up in bed, sweat running down the side of his face as he gasped for air. Hot bile rose up his throat and he stumbled from the bed to make a run for the bathroom. Once he'd emptied his stomach, he sat back against the wall, wiping his mouth and panting.

He'd been out of the infirmary for six days, with today being his first day on light duty. He'd pushed himself hard, wanting to get back into a routine as quickly as possible. Maybe he'd pushed a little too hard. He'd been doing well the past few days, eating regular meals and getting a fair amount of sleep and had even managed to gain two pounds in the past week. There had been a couple of small nightmares, but they had faded almost immediately after waking, leaving him less afraid of going to sleep at night. Until tonight, that was. This had been a doozy. If Kate was still here, she'd have a field day with that nightmare, but she wasn't. That was another page in his book of deaths to feel guilty over.

John pushed himself off the floor and rinsed his mouth out with some water in the sink. He stood looking at his reflection in the mirror. The face of a killer. No, that wasn't right. He'd already come to terms with Wallace's death and he wasn't a killer. He was sure what he'd done was wrong on some level, but he wasn't a killer.

Sighing, John went back to the bed and crawled in. He wasn't sure if sleep was a possibility any more tonight, but at least it wasn't an every night issue any more. He still occasionally had nightmares about killing Sumner and that had been over three years ago. He figured Wallace would give him nightmares for at least as long. Chuckling, he wondered if he'd wake up screaming in some old folks' home down the road, scaring the staff half to death. No, he thought soberly, he doubted he'd live long enough to do that.

He lay there for a while, looking into the dark, remembering the look on Wallace's face when the Wraith had begun to feed. Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, he shifted his thoughts to the fact that Rodney and Jeannie were both alive. Thinking the lights up, he sat up and reached for the picture beside his bed. He stared at the happy woman who reminded him of his best friend in so many ways and smiled. He'd done the right thing, at least the right thing for Rodney and Jeannie, as well as her family. It had been the right decision for Atlantis and for his team. And it had been the right decision for him. As much guilt as the whole affair had brought him, the thought of being in Atlantis right now knowing he'd let Rodney feed himself to the Wraith would have been unbearable. He was absolutely positive that he would have done anything, _anything, _to keep that from happening.

John returned the picture to the nightstand and lay back down, thinking the lights off once again. The Wraith had said they had to live with the consequences of their decisions and he'd been right. But having Rodney here in Atlantis, complaining about the coffee and inept help while saving the day was a consequence he could live with.

THE END


End file.
